In Which Emily and Hotch Share a Sandwich
by QueenZenobia
Summary: One-shot.


Emily hated the slow days at the office after a case, when their work confined the team to a desk from 9-to-5. Her restlessness increased with every passing hour. Lunchtime provided an outlet, but then the afternoon was absolute torture. And Morgan always made things worse. Boredom and restlessness were a recipe for trouble when it came to S.S.A. Derek Morgan.

He was surprisingly efficient with his paperwork. He always finished early. Emily heard him close his last file with a thud, get up noisily and stretch with animal-like sounds. She glanced at her watch: only three o'clock. What would he do in the remaining two hours? He already completed his flirting rounds in the morning, so that was done. García was at home with the flu, so he couldn't spend a few minutes locked up in her office. That just left Emily and Spencer.

Emily felt a sudden pang of jealousy over the fact that J.J. had her own office. She was safely out of Morgan's reach. Fortunately, Spencer was at his desk, though. He was usually Morgan's first target. But, in a fatal mistake, she glanced back and made eye contact with Morgan.

"Truth or dare, Princess?" he said with wicked eyes and a big brother tone.

"Sorry, Morgan, I don't play childish games anymore."

She was immediately sorry for having responded. Morgan was all over her like a dog on a bone.

"Do you have something to hide, Princess? I mean something _else_ to hide?"

Her eyes narrowed at the implication. He was egging her on, and it was working, but she kept writing silently.

"Or maybe you're just afraid of the truth. Yeah, that's it," he smirked. "You can't handle the truth!" he said in a bad Jack Nicholson accent.

Of course, he didn't give up, and fifteen minutes later she had fallen into his evil trap.

She cursed Morgan as she climbed the stairs toward the Unit Chief's office. Her feet felt heavy as lead. But she had no choice. She chose _truth_ and he asked if she was sleeping with anyone. There was no safe way to answer that question. If she said _no,_ he'd find her a date. If she said _yes,_ he'd want a name. He protested that she was cheating when she switched to _dare,_ but then he smiled like the Cheshire cat.

She reached the landing and wiped the nervous sweat off her brow. Would she really go through with it? She stopped just outside of Hotch's office and watched him for a few moments. He was having a 12-inch sub. Late lunch. And by the size of his bites she could tell he was hungry. He didn't care about the crumbs falling all over his keyboard. He was tired, too. Dark circles under his eyes. What with his divorce and child-custody hearings, and…

"Emily, what's up?" he asked wiping off some crumbs.

Emily was jolted out of her reverie. "Um, nothing, Sir, just wondering if we had a case, or anything."

He was visibly perplexed. "We just got back."

"No, I know. I'm just glad to be back."

"Yeah, me, too," he lied.

There was an awkward silence and Emily was miserable.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" he asked.

"Yes, now that you mention it," she walked up to him with a crimson blush and grabbed his sandwich from his hands. "That looks delicious." And she took a big bite.

His eyes widened in shock and then he blinked as if trying to wake up from some queer daydream.

"So good!" she exaggerated and closed her eyes as she chewed. "Just wonderful. Thank you, Sir." And she left the office with his sandwich.

She quickly walked along the balcony to J.J.'s office and barged in.

"Em?" inquired the blond.

"J.J., is he looking?"

"Is who looking?"

"Hotch?"

"He's on his way over, actually."

"Oh, no!" gasped Emily.

Sure enough, Hotch knocked on the door and opened it.

"Emily?" he said uncertainly.

"Yes?" asked Emily innocently.

"I'm sorry," he laughed. For the first time since they met, he was at a loss for words. This was completely absurd! A moment ago he was wallowing in self-pity for his current lot in life. And then out of the blue, a raven-haired nymph walks into his office and puts her perfect, beautiful lips around his sandwich.

"Oh, you want your sub back," Emily finally said. "Sorry."

"No, I'm happy to share, if you want some." He was so polite and charming and cute, and Emily wanted to kill Derek Morgan!

"No, no, thank you, I've already eaten. I don't know what came over me."

"No, I insist. Can I borrow your cake knife, J.J.?"

A bewildered J.J. opened her drawer without removing her eyes from the bizarre scene in front of her. She produced the knife, and Hotch cut his sandwich in half to give Emily a piece.

"Oh, I took a bite from your half," she said, meaning to switch halves.

"I don't mind," he said and turned to leave. "I also have some soda. Just come over and help yourself, if you'd like." He felt a sudden desire to see those red lips around the straw of his soda can. Shocked, he dismissed the thought and hesitantly closed the door.

Emily stood behind the door and burst into laughter.

"What in hell?" cried J.J.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_**

 ** _Just needed a break from my own workday. Hope you enjoyed it!_**


End file.
